


Flamedrops

by clk_boom



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clk_boom/pseuds/clk_boom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the first, it was spontaneous, and he is beautiful like raindrops full of fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flamedrops

**Author's Note:**

> This is only rated T+ because there are vague mentions of sex, but let me know if you think I should change it to M, and I'll oblige as soon as possible. Otherwise, enjoy!

Be Dave Strider ==>

You are already Dave Strider; you don't need to be him any more than you are. You are content to be him, too. Why would you ever think of being anyone else? You're happy, watching John sleep in none other than _your_ boxers, and you're wearing one of his baggy nightshirts. You hadn't really planned any of it -- John was coming to hang for a while, had brought something to sleep in. It ended up in hot, breathy kisses, the movie forgotten, and all you remember after that is John's skin under your fingertips, rolling around in the sheets, and moans. Whose voice was that? You think it was John; it was too beautiful a sound, too familiar and foreign to be yours.

You've been leaning against the doorframe, watching him sleep. It's still early in the morning, earlier than anyone would still be awake. It's peaceful. You lean your head against the doorframe, too, and John shifts a little. God, he's beautiful, you really think so. Tangled up in the sheets, still curled up the way he was when you were holding him. That was the best feeling in the world -- John by your side and you could do no wrong.

He stirs a little bit and you pick your head up. His hand reaches over to where you should be and finds you're not.

"Dave?" His voice is groggy. You freeze, wondering how he'll react. He sits up and his breath picks up. "Dave?" he asks a little more frantically. "Hello?" You think you hear a sob, and that's it, you're done. You step away from the door, wondering how he didn't see you. You sit next to him and put your arms around him, kiss his hair.

"I'm right here," you're murmuring against his ear, and he just clutches you back and nods. "I'm here, baby." You've never referred to him as "baby" before. In fact, here you'd been thinking everything went unrequited until tonight. Whining that he wasn't homosexual had just been some sort of self-defense mechanism against rejection.

"I thought you'd left," he manages to get out after a while. That one is an arrow in your chest. You hug him tighter, kiss into his tousled black hair.

"I will never leave you." He just slumps and cries into your chest. He smells like vanilla and spice and sex and now he kind of smells like you. It makes you flash back to last night, watching him watching the movie. Turning his head. Catching you watching. You being so _attracted_ to him, you just let your lips become magnetized. When you come back to the present, your nose and lips are resting in John's hair.

John stopped crying a while ago, but you didn't realize when. You just kept holding him tight. What would happen if you let go? It's probably that you'd fall apart. Maybe he would, too. But he is too perfect for you to let that happen. You prefer to let yourself fill the cracks in him, skin brushing over his, your eyes of fire and ice to contrast his of water and warmth.

After what seems like ages -- realistically, minutes -- he pulls away from you and takes your face in his hands. Your eyes close, then there is fire on your lips and rain in your soul. John has a way of kissing you that just feels so cleansing, so sweet and bitter. He'd never come across as "bitter" before, but the bite in the kiss was so much more distinct than even his teeth closing on your lower lip. You listen to your own sigh and can't bring yourself to smile because you feel it'd taint this bright white blip on your grey and black timeline. You will never leave him. You will _never_ leave him. You will fall apart into every crevice of his being, filling all the spaces where sin should go. And you will let him wash over you, cleansing you with the burn of his touch and the cascade of his breath and you will not stop being Dave Strider.


End file.
